


An Afternoon's Discoveries

by LaLainaJ



Series: Make Some Noise [19]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Regency, Bargains, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Romance Novel Inspired, Sex, Unexpected feelings, klarolineauweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:36:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5071135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caroline Forbes, daughter of a rich American business man, came to London because her mother dreamed of a title. Matched with Damon Salvatore (who would one day be a Marquess) she quickly found marriage, and the marriage bed, to be less than pleasant. </p><p>Newly widowed, she devises a plan to gain a modicum of freedom from those that would use her for their own gain. A child, one that she can pass off as Damon's heir, is what she needs. And to concieve said child she needs a man, one who'll agree to her terms, and quickly. Enter the wayward son of a neighboring Duke, Mr. Klaus Mikaelson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Day Two AU: The Past of klarolineauweek

**An Afternoon's Discoveries**

**(Prompt from lynyrdwrites: "** **impoverished lord and rich American heiress." Inspired by the historical romance** _**A Lady Awakened** _ **by Cecilia Grant. Smut.)**

Caroline bites the inside of her cheek, fighting not to move, not to react, when Mr. Mikaelson moves inside of her in a particular way. It sends ripples of sensation, cascading through her body, and it takes a lot of control, not to make a sound.

She's not to enjoy this, Caroline scolds herself. It's not proper, what they're doing, and she's  _only_ doing it because she must. Denying her body's wants, the instinctive urge to move against him,  _with him_ , as hard as it has become, is what she has to do.

It's foreign to Caroline, the idea that this act can be pleasurable.

But sometimes she feels things that she'd not known her body was capable of, despite the mutterings of her lady's maid, and her own tentative explorations in the bath. She wants to hitch her legs higher, to chase the sparks he causes, wants to see if they can feel even better, with a little effort.

Marriage had not prepared her for this. A wife, for nearly four years, and relations with her husband had only ever been uncomfortable, truly the duty she'd always been told they would be. Her late husband's hands had been cold and perfunctory on her skin, shifting her body where he'd wanted it, brusque and dismissive of her wants. He'd always smelled of liquor, the day's sweat, and cigar smoke, when he'd visited her bed twice a week, in hopes of begetting an heir. He'd snuffed the candles, when he'd come in, likely so he'd have an easier time imagining another woman, a woman slighter than Caroline, with darker hair. Each time Damon had muttered, 'Elena,' right before he'd stiffened and quaked, then rolled off of her, leaving her alone in her chamber, without another word.

She'd felt cold and confused, after Damon's attentions, curling up until a maid had bustled in with warm water and a change of sheets. The maid's faces had been sympathetic, and Caroline hated pity, so she'd forced smiles before cleaning herself up, and retiring to sleep.

It's different, with Mr. Mikaelson.

From the beginning, he'd touched her gently, with care and something close to affection. He'd tried to kiss her, before she'd told him that such niceties weren't required, that she preferred to keep things businesslike. She needed his seed, he wanted her money. Best not to blur the lines by playing at romance, Caroline thought.

It's become harder and harder, to remember why, as the hours they've spent together have multiplied.

He's not at all what she'd imagined, Mr. Mikaelson. His father, a Duke, had sent him to rusticate in the country, during the height of the London season. Caroline had assumed his vices had caught up with him, drink or gambling or a scandal with a debutante, or perhaps a married lady.

She gets gossip sparingly, cloaked in mourning colors as she is, all of her friends away, enjoying balls and musicales. She'd written to Katherine, mentioning that Mr. Klaus Mikaelson was in residence, at the neighboring estate, knowing that her friend would be a font of information.

She hadn't had time, to wait for Katherine's reply, and so she'd plowed ahead with her proposal to him. A child that she could pass off as Damon's, was the only thing that would allow her a modicum of freedom. She'd needed a man, who would accept her offer, and Klaus had seemed a likely candidate. Additionally, upon meeting him, she'd realized that his light hair and blue eyes would mean that any resemblance could be passed off as the child simply favoring Caroline's own coloring.

So she'd issued an invitation to tea, under the guise of welcoming him to the area. She'd been taken aback, by how handsome he'd been, finding herself watching the grace of his hands, but had quickly reminded herself that beauty meant  _nothing_. She'd been beguiled by Damon Salvatore's lovely eyes and pleasing features, as a green girl, enough to be fooled when he'd feigned interest in her dreams and hobbies.

In the end Damon had only been after her money, and Caroline would be a fool to believe that another man would be different.

Mr. Mikaelson had listened to her offer, dumbfounded, tried to talk her out of it. He'd been incredulous, but Caroline had been persistent, and eventually a bargain had been struck.

Mr. Mikaelson had proven to be intelligent, amusing, a witty conversationalist, though he probably would be considered crass, by the matrons of the haut ton. Caroline had always found them rather stuffy, compared to the lively dinners and parties her parents had thrown. Her father had made his fortune, penny by penny, with hard work and clever thinking, and he respected people who did the same, regardless of their last names. He'd invited rich industrialists, visiting aristocrats, up and coming inventors to dine at his table, without care for their station or sensibilities.

Coming to England, with all of its strict rules and protocols had been a shock. But her mother had wanted Caroline to be a princess, though in the end she'd reluctantly settled for her daughter being a marchioness.

Honestly, Caroline thinks she would have been happier, had she stayed at home, and married one of her father's business associates. At least then she'd never have had to smile, in the face of insults, about how coarse and common and  _American_  she was.

But she hadn't stayed there, and there was no use on dwelling on what ifs. Caroline had a small window, of opportunity, to craft her life into something bearable. Giuseppe Salvatore and his younger son, Stefan, had been convinced that she needed privacy, to mourn, and as such were spending a few weeks in Newmarket, leaving Caroline alone with a bare minimum of servants. They were waiting, to see if she quickened with child, and she had no illusions about what would happen if she did not.

Caroline would once again become a pawn, and she refused to allow it.

Giuseppe would attempt to marry her off to Stefan, despite the fact that he was also desperately in love with Elena Gilbert (who, as the daughter of an impoverished viscount, was a poor choice for a family that, before Caroline's dowry had come along, had barely been managing to stave off creditors). She's thankful that her father had been crafty, negotiating marriage settlements that put a great deal of money at Caroline's disposal. And with that money, more power than most women could yield. Her dowry had been enormous and her husband granted a generous annual allowance. But Caroline's portion was greater, and her father had let her know that she need only write, and more would be provided. It's the very weapon Caroline had used, to get the Salvatore's to leave her be, if only for a month. She'd provided Giuseppe with the means to gamble, a pastime he was very fond of, despite a lack of skill that had caused the Salvatore's dire financial position, and he'd been happy to fall into her trap.

She could go back home to her parents, but Caroline doesn't trust her mother not to try for another aristocratic match. Elizabeth Forbes would not aim so high, on the second go around, because at three and twenty, having lost the bloom of youth, Caroline wouldn't be quite so attractive a commodity. But a baron, or perhaps a viscount, with pockets to let, was certainly possible.

Caroline had carefully considered her options, before deciding on her current path. A child was the best solution, for it's not as though she hadn't wanted one. A boy, hopefully, to inherit Damon's title. And if it was a girl, then Caroline would love her daughter, and would at least have bought time to formulate a new plan.

Klaus drops to his elbows, pressing his chest to hers, changing the angle of his erection inside of her, and Caroline isn't quick enough to bite back a gasp, can't help the arch of her hips, as he rubs against the exquisitely sensitive little nub of flesh at the apex of her thighs. He pauses, the motion of his hips stilling, looking down at her face, eyes wide in wonder.

"I'm sorry," Caroline apologizes, turning her face away, forcing her body to go limp against the mattress. "Please continue your… exertions."

Klaus groans, the sound different from the soft noises of pleasure he usually makes, almost frustrated. He withdraws abruptly, sits up, rolling to the side.

Caroline gathers the sheets, clutching them to her chest, despite the fact that she still wears her shift, "Is something the matter, Mr. Mikaelson?"

He scrubs a hand over his face, staring bleakly at the ceiling, "Just give me a moment, sweetheart. It's difficult for a man to feel inspired, when the lady would rather be mucking stables, than underneath him."

"Oh," Caroline replies, she hadn't considered that. "I'm sorry. My husband never seemed to mind, that I didn't want him in my bed."

He turns to her, a brief flash of anger crossing his features, "Don't apologize, love. Not for that. I'm rather glad your husband is dead, because I don't think I'd be able to resist the urge to soundly beat him."

Caroline doesn't know how to respond, though his vehemence warms her a little, adding to the respect and tenderness she's begun to feel for Mr. Mikaelson. She's careful to keep it hidden, of course. But it's there, nurtured by the conversations they've had, between couplings, by the little sketches he surprises her with, by the way he watches her, as if he's checking to ensure that she's comfortable, before proceeding, despite the fact that she's been allowing him liberties with her body for weeks.

He turns to her, plumping a pillow under his head, before he speaks, soft and entreating, "May I ask you something?"

"You may," Caroline replies, cautiously.

"Why do you fight yourself? Fight the things you feel, when we're together?"

"Because it's wrong," Caroline tells him, though he should already know, "A woman's duty…"

He makes a noise, low in his throat, derisive and wryly amused, "Don't just parrot the things the insufferable old crones in London told you to prepare you for your wedding night. Tell me the truth. Your body reacts to me. I've felt it. Lord knows I react to you," he nods downward, to where he's thick and hard, unashamed of his nakedness, inviting her gaze.

Caroline feels herself blushing, as her eyes track down his body. He still wears his shirt, but his coat, breeches, boots and undergarments have been discarded at the end of the bed.

It's not a conscious decision, to reach out, but she's curious, about what he would feel like. Realizing what she's doing, she makes to snatch her hand back, before it's breached the distance between them. But Mr. Mikaelson is quicker, grasping her hand before she can withdraw it, "Do you want to touch me, Caroline?"

Her eyes fly to his, at the use of her name. She's not given him leave to use it, has persisted in calling him 'Mr. Mikaelson,' despite his protests.

"Because you can," he tells her. "I want you to. Nearly as badly as I want to touch you."

She twists her wrist, and he immediately lets go. She watches his face, as she reaches for him, resting her palm on his belly, beneath his shirt. His eyes widen, and his lips press together, but he doesn't look away from her, even an she lets her fingers wander down, along the trail of hair there, a shade or two darker than the curls on his head.

His breath hitches, as she wraps her hand around the base of him, and his throat bobs with a harsh swallow, as she strokes upwards, marvelling at the heat of him.

"Is this right?" she asks, because Damon had preferred to touch himself, to make himself ready, and so she'd rarely been made to assist him.

Mr. Mikaelson reaches down, wraps his fingers around hers, tightening her grip, "It's perfect, love. Just a little tighter, I won't break."

She does as he instructs, watching his eyes flutter shut, his face tight with strain. He lets out a curse, body jolting, when she rubs her thumb over the tip of him, then down the pulsing vein along the underside.

She's about to do it again, likes the reaction she'd pulled from him, when he gently brushes her hand away. She looks up, puzzled, because it had seemed as if he'd liked what she'd been doing, very much.

He answers her unspoken question, "You did nothing wrong, and everything right. Too right, and I'd have spent, far too early."

She nods, because she thinks she understands. And then she takes a deep breath asking uncertainly, "Do you still want to touch me?"

"Yes," he tells her, as soon as the words are out of her mouth. "Very much so. But not if you're uncomfortable with the idea. Not if you think it's wrong."

"I suppose it's only fair," Caroline murmurs, looking away from him.

But he's unwilling to accept that, shaking his head, and inching closer, cupping her cheek, his blue eyes dark and solemn, "I don't give a damn about fair, Caroline. What do you want?"

She bites her lip, wishing she could turn her face away, afraid he sees too much. Finally she nods, hoping that's enough, because she's not brave enough to say the words.

He surprises her, by sitting up again, striping of his shirt and climbing out of bed. He goes to the windows, throwing back the heavy drapes. They're on the highest floor of the estate, so no one will see them, and late afternoon sunshine fills the room.

He motions for her to follow him and hesitantly, Caroline crawls to the edge of the bed, before padding over to meet him where he stands, in the centre of a thick carpet. He rests his hands on her shoulders, before he slips behind her, and she feels his hands wind into her hair, slipping down to the end of the thick braids she wears.

"May I let your hair loose, Caroline?"

She nods, helpless to the low, smooth tone he uses. His hands are careful, not pulling, and he massages her scalp where the pins had dug in, and she leans into him, closing her eyes in contentment at the unexpected, sweet, caress. Soon, long curls are spilling down her back, and he runs his hands through the length of her hair reverently, letting out an appreciative hum, "Beautiful. Just like I'd imagined."

He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her back to rest against his front, presses a kiss to her temple. "Now, I'd like it if you removed your shift, love."

She stills against him, the nerves that he'd coaxed away flooding back. He runs his hands down her bare arms, presses his face into her hair, "Please, Caroline? Trust me, if only just for an afternoon?"

She does trust him. Has every confidence that he has no desire to hurt her. Believes him, when he calls her beautiful. And what's another sin, on top of all the others?

Caroline brings her own hands up to the neckline of the shirt, works the tiny pearl buttons through the holes, and he rewards her, applying his lips to her neck, sucking kisses and the edge of his teeth leaving heat pooling low in her stomach.

She shrugs her shoulders, letting the cotton fall to the floor. He urges her to step out of it, drawing her backwards, towards where she knows the bed is. His skin against hers is a new feeling, novel but nice, and she sort of wishes to pause, to further absorb it. But then he stops, when they're right up against the bed, coming around to face her.

He tilts her chin up, gaze intent on her face for several long moments. Whatever he finds seems to please him, for he sits on the bed, moving backwards so he sits propped up against the headboard. When he's situated, he reaches for her hand, urging her to climb in next to him. She sits, curling her legs to the side, using an arm to shield her breasts from his view.

He smiles, and shakes his head, cupping the back of her neck, "So modest, love. I hardly expected it, from the woman who so blatantly propositioned me."

Caroline looks down, her hair falling in front of her face, hiding her embarrassment, "I'm…"

But he cuts off her apology, pressing a fingertip to her lower lip, "No. Don't say you're sorry. You shouldn't be. You're a complicated puzzle, Caroline Forbes, and I quite like trying to put the pieces together."

He runs his hand down her back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, pulling her insistently towards him. She catches herself, with her hands on his chest, "Put your knees next to my hips," he instructs quietly, "I expect it will feel odd, for a bit, and I curse that thoughtless bastard you married for that."

Caroline's sure her complexion has gone from flushed to beet red, but she follows the gentle directions of his hands, until her center is pressed to his abdomen, and his face is level with her breasts.

She's about to ask him if she's positioned herself correctly, but when she looks down he's focused on her breasts, looking like a starving man at the most lavish of feasts. Her nipples tighten, at the attention, just beginning to ache. He leans his forehead, on her chest, and when he mutters, "Beautiful," Caroline's not sure if she'd been meant to hear it.

His lips drag down the slope of her breast, before his lips close around her nipple. Caroline digs her nails into his shoulder, her eyes widening at the feeling, as he worries the peak with lips and tongue and teeth. Her head falls back, hips shifting forward, offering him more of her, demanding more of him.

He pulls back with a pop, switching breasts, but bringing his hand up to tease where he'd left. Caroline's hips shift, without her permission, seeking friction where she's pressed against him. His hand on her back pulls her into him, helping her rock, until her breaths are coming in short gasps, and she feels sweat beading along her hairline.

She feels his hand on her thigh, sliding higher, and it's him who moans, when he touches the heat of her. His thumb parts her, circling where she is most sensitive, before sliding lower to dip inside, gathering some of her slickness. He sinks a finger into her, his thumb returning to rub and tease. She's not thinking, and it's glorious, moving against his clever fingers with abandon, letting out gasps as he finds new ways to touch her, to drive her pleasure higher.

"That's it," he coaxes, voice rough, "feel it, love. It's good, isn't it? Just a little more. Let go, and it'll be even better. I promise."

His fingers crook, inside of her, his thumb pressing hard, and Caroline lets out a sharp cry, slumping against him, as the tension snaps and her limbs seem unwilling to obey her commands, pleasure thrumming through them.

It takes a while, for her mind to clear, and when it does she's pressed against him, and he's stroking her hair, his arousal solid and evident between them.

"What was that?" Caroline asks, pulling back to look at him, feeling light and content.

"That," Klaus tells her, his voice a low rumble, "was something you should have experienced before now, sweetheart. And it's practically criminal that you have not, in my opinion. There's so much passion in you, so much you could experience."

"Will you show me?" Caroline blurts out, impulsively.

He smiles, slow and delighted, "It would be my greatest pleasure. But I want two things, in return. First, I want you to kiss me."

Caroline brings her hands to his face, runs her palms over his stubble, before she leans in. He's patient, opening his mouth, softly encouraging her to do the same, brushing his tongue over hers teasingly. She's breathless when she pulls back, but fighting a smile of her own.

"And the second thing?" she asks expectantly, without any wariness or fear.

He flips them, unexpectedly, and Caroline lets out a squeal that melts into a laugh. He braces his hands on either side of her head, settling his body between her thighs, "The next time you come apart like that, I want you to say my name. Klaus, not Mr. Mikaelson. Can you do that?"

She pulls his head down, pressing his mouth to hers once more, craving another taste of him, in lieu of an answer.


	2. Another Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline is enjoying her shifting arrangement with Klaus, and more still when it shifts again.

She brought a book with her, upstairs to the room she and Klaus have claimed for their trysts. Caroline is unsure of exactly _when_ Klaus will be able to sneak away and she has nothing pressing to accomplish. He was set to be in meetings with his father's solicitors, had promised that he would do his best to hurry them along. They were merely coming to check that he had not burnt the property to the ground, Klaus had said. Joked, with a casualness that made Caroline _hate_ the Duke, despite the fact that she had never set eyes on the man, that his father would probably gladly sacrifice the estate, if he got rid of his least favored son in return.

She had kissed him, after that confession. In broad daylight, with only the cover of a thick tree. Soft and tender, trying to tell him with her touch how very _wrong_ his father was. Klaus had looked at her with such wonder after, her throat had felt tight, clogged with the emotions that he managed to inspire in her, that seemed to grow a little each day.

It scares her and it thrills her in equal measure. But she has no idea what to do with these feelings, given the situation she and Klaus have become entangled in.

Caroline sprawls across the bed, and settles in to read, tries to clear her mind. But she cannot focus, her ears perking up at the smallest creaks and groans. It is very new, this anticipation, and she has come to adore it. The tension that builds, the way she longs for Klaus' touch. How eagerly he satisfies her wants. It has only been just over a week, since Klaus began teaching her of pleasure and he has wrung more from her then Caroline had ever imagined possible.

And yet he promises that there is still much he can show her.

Words on the page blur together as Caroline presses her thighs together, a dull ache starting in her core. She is just about to give up, to let her mind wander to all the delicious things Klaus has done to her body when she hears the distinctive creak of the door opening.

She rolls over on to her back, uncaring that her skirts tangle and reveals her calves. They are somewhat beyond the proprieties at this point, though she sometimes cannot help but feel a little bashful. Caroline props herself up on her elbows to watch him enter the room. She has come to enjoy the way he moves, the way he holds himself. "Good afternoon," she greets him, just a touch formally.

Klaus smiles at her, strides to the bed, pulls her up and cups her face. His thumbs stroke her cheeks, "It is now. What is this blush for, I wonder?"

Caroline feels her color deepen, her eyes falling from his shyly. Klaus liked to hear her, had told her with quiet fervency, while the sweat cooled on their bodies, that there was nothing that she could say or do while they were intimate that was _wrong_ – that he wanted to know what she liked.

Caroline tries, directs his hands sometimes, lets pleas spill from her lips when something feels so good that she thinks she would go mad if he stopped. But her tiny attempts at encouragement were nothing compared to the words that Klaus said. He had little shame, would describe things before he did them, things that Caroline were certain were sinful but she could never find it in herself to regret them, once he showed her how gratifying they were.

Caroline bites her lip, and musters her courage. Glances up at him, "I was thinking of you. And of what we did yesterday."

His eyes heat and he bends to brush his lips over hers. She parts her lips to accept his tongue, lets out a sigh as it rubs sensuously against hers. His hands go to her hair, and she tilts her head back in pleasure as he pulls the pins out. She feels his lips curve against hers, as he takes his time and lets her hair loose. It's a simple thing, but she enjoys it. Leaves her hair in its arrangement even when it would be more expedient to take it down herself.

She expects him to pull her up, to turn her and work her out of her dress. It is how their encounters usually go. But instead Klaus drops to his knees and Caroline's eyes pop open curiously. "What… what are you doing?" she asks.

Klaus begins to gather her skirts, his eyes bright with anticipation, "What we did yesterday, that was new, yes? And you liked it. Quite a bit, if I recall."

Caroline swallows hard, but manages to nod. He'd stripped her bare, turned her onto her stomach. She had been disconcerted, and stiff initially, but Klaus had made soothing noises, murmured that she could trust him. Klaus had applied something liquid to her skin. Its coolness had made her gasp and then his hands began spreading it along her back. She had squirmed, feeling odd. "It is merely an oil, love," Klaus has assured her. "You will enjoy this, I promise." His hands had glided easily over her skin, warming the oil. It had smelled sweet, and he had kneaded the muscles and tendons along her spine until Caroline had been putty, and had felt like she could sink right through the mattress.

And then his hands had dropped lower, cupping her backside with the same reverent attention. She had buried her face in a pillow, mortified even though she had known it was silly. Klaus had given her thighs the same treatment, then her calves. Even her feet.

It had been heavenly, her entire body lax and pliant when he was through.

And then Klaus had dipped his hand between her thighs, while he applied his lips to her back. He had traced her delicate folds so softly, and Caroline had not been able to help spreading her legs further apart, wanting more of his touch. His slickened digits had slid easily into her body, working her up in gentle waves. Her hands had clutched the pillow under her head, hips undulating with his motions, that sweet release just beyond her reach. He had stopped and she had let out a noise, a whine of protest that had left Klaus groaning, "I know," he had soothed, before he had propped her hips up on a few pillows. And then he had lain overtop of her, his weight on his forearms so not to crush her. He had laced the fingers of one of his hands with hers, reached down and placed himself at the dripping entrance of her body.

Caroline had understood then, had let her head drop and shifted so he could slide inside. Klaus had done so with a moan, muffling the sound against her shoulder. "You feel incredible," he had rasped, as he had begun to move.

She had had a fleeting thought that she ought to feel suffocated, with the lean length of him pressing her to the bed. But she had not, not in the slightest, had liked the sensation. Klaus' trembling, the soft noises of pleasure he made rumbling through her where their skin pressed together. Widening her legs and circling her hips experimentally had left him gasping, his teeth sinking into her shoulder. "Yes," he had breathed, his motions speeding up, his length dragging against a spot inside of her that left her panting. "Like that. Move with me, take what you need, sweetheart."

Caroline had dug her knees into the bed, shifted with more purpose, the familiar tingle low in her belly driving out all thoughts but one. She had wanted more, needed him to push her over the edge. "Please," she'd sobbed out, between harsh pulls of air. Klaus had tunneled his hand under her, his fingers rolling her most sensitive bit of flesh until she had let go while crying out his name.

Every time he takes her to that place, leaves her boneless and sated, she is surprised at how good it is, marvels at the things her body is capable of.

"Caroline," Klaus drawls, sounding amused. He is in the process of rolling down her stockings, fingertips skimming along the back of her legs. She shakes herself, embarrassed for having gotten lost in the memory. She tries to remember what they had been speaking of, the exact question he had asked. Klaus repeats himself, his face deceptively angelic, "I asked if you liked what I did to you yesterday? When I touched every inch of you, got you wet and desperate before propping your delectable little body upon…"

Caroline nudges him sharply with her knee, cutting him off and making him laugh. She glares, but it is half-hearted, "It was… acceptable," she tells him primly.

Klaus shrugs, looking mildly disappointed, "Only acceptable? Well, that just won't do. I suppose they cannot all be winners. We do not have to try it again. Or any of the variations such a position offers. I had thought you might enjoy sitting upright, while I took you from behind. Your nipples are so very sensitive, and I do enjoy the way your breath catches as I play with them."

Caroline clears her throat, shifts slightly, and feels the wetness that coats her thighs. "I suppose we could try that," she offers. "Perhaps it was just new."

Klaus grins, but nods seriously, and Caroline is sorely tempted to nudge him again, harder this time, for being so unbearably smug. "Gracious of you, love. But I've wandered off topic. I would like to try another act, one I suspect will also be new to you. Will you let me?"

It is not in Caroline's nature to be compliant, even though she has yet to dislike any of the 'acts' Klaus has shown her. She finds she cannot stop herself from asking a question, "What do I have to do?"

Klaus tugs her forward slightly, so her bottom just rests on the edge of the bed. "Absolutely nothing," he promises. "You merely have to sit there."

She remains a bit suspicious, because that sounds far too easy, but Caroline nods. "I suppose you may proceed."

His hands race up her skirts, making quick work of the tapes that hold her drawers together, tugging the fabric away and pushing it aside. Klaus gathers her skirts at her waist, and Caroline instinctively clamps her thighs together to hide her center from his gaze. Klaus shakes his head, a small smile playing over his lips, "Hold these for me will you, love?"

Caroline does as he has asked, pinning her skirts to her body. She jumps slightly upon feeling his breath on her thighs. Klaus' hands land on her knees, pushing them apart with gentle insistence, shuffling forward when she reluctantly parts them. His hands move higher, thumbs tracing the crease where her thigh meets her torso. One of them brushes over the seam of her, parting her folds. Caroline lets out a shocked squeal when his head dips, guessing his intention. "Klaus! You can't… oh!"

Her protest dies, because he _is_. And heaven help her but his tongue is so much better than his fingers. Soft and slick and teasing. Caroline's thighs widen unconsciously, a hand resting behind her on the bed to help her stay balanced, as she tries to get _more_. He licks broadly, and just as she's become accustomed to that sensation he lets the wicked point of his tongue flick over her clit. Caroline grips her skirts so tightly her knuckles protest the strain. And then he dips lower, circles her entrance, letting out a pleased hum that sends sparks of pleasure shooting up her spine. "Klaus…" Caroline chokes out again, unable to help writhing in place. "I do not think that I…"

"Yes you can. Do not _think_ , Caroline. Just enjoy," he murmurs, right before his lips seal over her clit. He sucks hard and Caroline cries out, reaching for him and grabbing at his hair. Two of his fingers enter her, just what she needs, and Klaus strokes her to climax, worrying her clit with his lips.

Caroline falls back to the bed when it hits her, holding Klaus between her thighs as her body trembles and her mind goes blank. He doesn't seem to mind her grip, moaning as he licks her frantically. He slows, as the shaking of her legs eases, presses kisses down her inner thigh before he stands. He tugs her skirts from her hand, rubs his thumb over her knuckles before he kisses her wrist. Her fingers twitch, reaching out to stroke the slight stubble on his jaw. "How was that?" he asks, smirk in place.

Caroline rolls her eyes, because he very well knows how it had been. Her abandon had been certain and complete. "I did not know that you could do that," is what she says, her voice slightly gravelly from the volume of her cries.

Klaus smiles down at her fondly. "I had assumed as much." He crawls over her, brushes his lips over hers. They remain wet with her arousal, and Caroline finds herself curious, her tongue peeking out to taste before she can think to stop herself. Klaus freezes, a curse rumbling out. Caroline draws back, as much as she is able, "I'm sorry," she stutters, thinking he was displeased. He lets out a noise, kissing her more deeply, grinding his hips into hers. He is hard with want, and Caroline slips her hand under his jacket and shirt to feel his skin.

He is breathless when he pulls back. "Never apologize, love. You taste incredible. I could do that for hours." Klaus pauses, his eyes going dark and determined, "And I will, one of these days. You would need to be out of your dress, I think. So I could see your skin flush. You would be so pretty, love. Pink and aching for me as you thrashed in the sheets."

Caroline shivers at the low words, finds she has no objections. A thought occurs to her, "Could I do that?" she wonders. "To you? Do men like it too?"

The groan Klaus lets out sounds pained, "They do. And you could. But love…"

Caroline's already moving, her curiosity getting the better of her. She pushes Klaus off her, and he rolls to his side. And then on to his back. She props herself up on her elbow, tracing her hand down his clothed front to stroke over the bulge in his breeches. "Will you tell me how?"

Klaus swallows hard, his Adams apple bobbing. His breaths have begun to shallow, his body twitching under her touch. She finds that she likes it, that it makes her feel powerful to see him on his way to being overcome. His protest is weak, "You do not have to, Caroline. I do not _need_ it."

Caroline shakes her head, her hair spilling over her shoulders, "I want to," she tells him firmly, setting her fingers to his waistband. "I want to make you feel good."

Klaus sits up abruptly and Caroline sends him a severe glare, thinking he intends to thwart her. He laughs softly, kisses her quickly, an affectionate brush. "So stern. I am not nearly so strong to resist such an offer. But I want you out of your dress. May I?"

Caroline nods her permission, slips off the bed and presents her back. Klaus works quickly, has her disrobed in no time. He pulls her back against his chest, cups her breasts and tweaks her nipples. She sets her hands on his legs, cuddles into his chest. Feels his erection against her bottom. "You are trying to distract me," Caroline accuses. "It will not work."

"I am not. Not really. I just like to touch you." Caroline likes it to, so she tips her head back on his shoulder, biting her lip as his touch tightens her nipples into aching points. He grabs one of her hands, and sets it over her breast, places his over top and encourages her to touch herself. She tilts her head, so she can see his face, see the rapt way he watches her hands on her own flesh. "Do you like that?" she asks curiously.

"Watching you touch yourself?" Klaus asks. Caroline nods, nuzzling into his throat. "I adore it," he rasps.

"I do it in the bath sometimes," Caroline confesses quietly. "But my hands never feel as good as yours."

Klaus lets out a shaky exhale that ruffles her hair, "Fuck, Caroline, you really have no idea what you do to me, do you?"

She rolls her hips, and he moans. "I think I have _some_ idea," she tells him as she turns. Her hands reach up, push his coat from his shoulders, caressing his arms as she goes. She reaches for the buttons of his shirt next, kissing his chest as his skin is revealed to her. Tests his reactions, with little nips and swipes of her tongue.

Finds herself wishing, not for the first time, that she would have been lucky enough to marry someone like Klaus. That she could have learned that all of this was possible between a man and a woman – warmth and euphoria and _fun_ – far sooner then she had.

Her fingers fumble clumsily with his pants, the fastenings unfamiliar. Klaus reaches down to help her, shucking them and moving back on the bed. He rests against the headboard, "Come here," he tells her. He takes her hand, tugs her so she is facing him, kneeling between his legs. Caroline shuffles back slightly, reaches out hesitantly. She has touched him before, learned where he is most sensitive with her hands, and has enjoyed watching his face twist and his body heave under her ministrations. "What do I need to do?" she asks, wrapping her fingers and around him. Klaus lets out a strangled laugh, his head tipping back, the cords of his neck sharply outlined as she strokes him. "Honestly, love, whatever you do is going to feel incredible. Mind your teeth, and do not try to take too much. Anywhere I like your touch I'll love your lips or your tongue."

Caroline's nose wrinkles, her lips pressing together in mild annoyance. Because as far as instructions went, those were not particularly helpful. She swipes her thumb over the leaking tip of him, pulls it to her face to contemplate the smear of wetness left behind. Meets his gaze, when she puts it in her mouth. Klaus' eyes widen, a soft grunt falling from him. The taste is not as unpleasant as she had assumed it would be, and Caroline ducks her head and licks over the tip of his length, to see if that remains true. Klaus seems to enjoy it, her name coming out raggedly. She encloses him in her lips, sucks gently and then harder when he moans, long and loud.

She pulls back, slipping her hair over one shoulder so it stays out of the way. Klaus has reached up, his hands clamped over the headboard, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He watches her raptly, his face taut with hunger.

Caroline assumes that means she is not hopelessly inept at this particular activity.

One of her hands reaches lower to stroke over his balls and his hips shift, the muscles of his stomach pulled tight. Caroline licks her lips, and bends once again, sliding more of him into her mouth. She laves the underside before she hollows her cheeks around him. Klaus moves again, gritting out an apology, and Caroline grips him tighter, pulling off slightly.

Well, now she realizes what he had meant by 'do not try to take too much.'

Caroline continues, watches his face for cues, and listens carefully for his noises of enjoyment. Repeats the motions that cause them. Tries them with more speed and force. After a time Klaus goes still, seems to stop breathing and rasps out, "Caroline," with a satisfying note of pleading.

She looks up in question. Klaus reaches out, "Come up here. I should be inside you when I come."

Caroline crawls forward, chagrined. She had almost forgotten their purpose here, the bargain they had struck to get her with child. Klaus' hand slips between her thighs, stroking along her folds, and he groans, "God, you are _dripping_."

He sounds thrilled, so Caroline does not allow herself to feel self-conscious, lifting up and taking him inside of her. Klaus' head drops to her shoulder, his hands coming up to palm her breasts once she's fully seated. "This is going to be quick," he warns her, a note of apology coloring his tone. Caroline finds that she does not mind, the fullness of him inside leaves her muscles clenching rhythmically. His mouth takes over on her breast as his hands grip her hips, helping her rock on top of him. They have done this, several times, and Caroline has to admit it might be her favorite. She leans back, chasing that perfect angle. Shudders when she finds it, wrapping a hand around his neck for balance.

Klaus seems to be straining, body pulled tight, making greedy noises between rough pulls of her nipple. One of his hands burrows between them and he works his magic against her clit, sending her reeling right before he loses it, spilling inside of her.

He pulls her forward, so she sprawls against his chest, murmuring softly. Caroline is drowsy, her eyes drooping. She only catches a few words until he says something that floors her. She pulls back, wide eyed and shocked, "What did you say?"

Klaus clears his throat, looks as nervous as she has ever seen him. His hands come up to her face, noticeably trembling, "I said that I love you, Caroline."

Tears spring to her eyes, and Caroline grips his shoulders. Let's out a watery laugh. Her heart is beating wildly, and she is afraid he can hear the pounding, "That is _completely_ crazy, Klaus. We have known each other for three weeks. I am in mourning. My husband has not yet been dead a _month_."

He shakes his head, presses his forehead to hers. "I do not care. I love you. I want you to marry me. We can go to Gretna Green. Tonight if you wish. Or we can sail to your home, speak to your parents and do it there. I will convince them that I will make you happy. I care not an ounce about any scandal. I just want to be with you."

"What about your family?"

"I cannot find the will to care what my parent's will say. We have never been close. My little sister has already been married off, so no scandal can harm her chances. My older brothers will scold me, but I know they will come 'round. Kol will likely congratulate me, find the situation endlessly amusing."

She finds that his offer is more than enough for her.

Caroline kisses him, laughs into his mouth, clutches him frantically to her, only releases his mouth when she can no longer go without breathing, "Yes. Tonight. I will write my parents immediately. My mother will be furious, but my father will understand."

Klaus lights up, his delight plain, before he rolls Caroline underneath him. He sets his hands on either side of her head, smirking down at her heatedly. "We have plenty of time before it grows dark, love. I say a celebration is in order."

Caroline has already begun planning, what supplies they will need, which carriage to take. But his mouth on her throat is distracting, more so as he moves downward, and she finds her mental lists difficult to focus on.

She gives in with a sigh, when he bites down near her collarbone, soothing the sting with his tongue.

Another hour or so will not matter, not when the rest of her life is about to begin.


End file.
